


Never More

by SomewhatCharred



Category: RWBY
Genre: Established Bees, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Light Smut, Past Character Death, Romantic Fluff, Set 2 years after Vol 5, and some stuff happened inbetween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-06-10 10:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhatCharred/pseuds/SomewhatCharred
Summary: “I just thought I was done you know. With her, all the shit she gave me. She died... I accepted that."“You never really had time to process it all. But you have that time now, time to process, to grieve. Maybe even find some closure."Years after Raven's death Yang receives a letter, together with Blake she embarks on a journey, a chance to find some part of the woman who's absence defined her.





	1. Prologue: Quoth the Raven

“You’re shitting me. It sounds like you’re shitting me.”

Taiyang sighed gesturing to the letter in her hands, “Well, when I told you your mother was a complicated woman I’ll admit that this wasn’t what I meant, but honestly it lines up. She always did have a flair for the dramatic.” There was a wistful edge to his voice as he spoke, sadness too.

Blake's fingers brushed the back of her hand and Yang turned her palm upwards and intertwined them, talk of her mother had a way of shaking her these days and she clutched her support more desperately than she intended. Her voice remained steady though, laced with bitter sarcasm as it was. “But buried treasure? A hand drawn map? Fucking riddles?! You’re sure this isn’t one last practical joke?”

“That wasn’t really her style. Besides according to Qrow she used to love old pirate stories when she was a kid, maybe she just got nostalgic.” He was clearly uncomfortable, he’d never liked talking about Raven either and he seemed to blame himself at least in part for her death, Yang felt a flash of guilt for being difficult. “Look, you don’t have to go after it. But before...” He paused, swallowing something back, and Yang wanted to get up, to comfort him and tell him she understood, but those few scraps of paper weighed her down. “Two years ago she asked me to give you this. I’ve held on to it longer than perhaps I should have, but now the world’s calming down and now you’ve finally decided to pay your aging father a visit, I figured it was time to hand it over.”

She takes a moment to consider, her father’s clear fragility making her cautious. “Sorry, this is just a lot to take in.” She paused, Blake leans into her like an invitation and she responds by resting her head on the top of her partner’s. “So I just go on some treasure hunt? Find all the valuables she’s stolen over the years.” There’s a letter along with the map, vague and brief, saying in few words how given that Raven had no formal will or even a bank account she’d gathered her treasures in a cave and locked them away.

And now they were Yang’s. If she played the elaborate game of hide and seek laid out before her.

“Like I said, it’s your choice to make. Ignore it or don’t. Keep what you find or give it away. You’ve more than earned that right, and no one will think any less of you whatever you decide.”

“Thanks.”

“Besides,” He looked up, barely contained smirk clearly evident in his voice, “You’ve proven beyond doubt that you’ll do what you want, given that you went and got married without even sending an invite to your dear old dad.”

Despite the accusation the tone in the room lightened considerably, Blake blushed and shifted to hide herself in the crook of her wife’s neck but Yang laughed, smiling into her hair. “Well we tried but we couldn’t find a mailbox anywhere in Salem’s secret island lair.” Their impromptu battlefield wedding had been its own type of perfect, and a bright moment when they and their friends had desperately needed one, but it had left their respective parents feeling a little left out.

“Well Ren was the only one with any scroll battery left, but we got a few pictures of the day if that helps.” She reached for her own scroll, bringing the photos onscreen, the pressure in her chest by no means gone but perhaps set aside for a moment. “I have to warn you though, they were taken by Nora.” Her dad looks confused, not quite making the connection, but Blake snorts into her shoulder and it feels like happiness as together they recount their big day.

* * *

 

 

This room held mixed memories for her. She remembers crying herself to sleep in the wake of Summer's death, waiting till Ruby was asleep before allowing herself to feel. She remembers lying still for days in the aftermath of beacon, alone and useless and wishing she didn’t care about it all so much. There were good memories here too, Ruby showing her Crescent Rose for the first time, eyes so full of life and glee, her father struggling to push the motorbike that would become Bumblebee through the door for her 16th birthday, but they were less vivid. Her childhood room had witnessed her childhood being denied to her, sacrificed so that her sister might have one instead. It hurt her to accept that this house would never be her home.

The letter. The map. They lay on her bedside table. She didn’t look at them either, the words and images burned into her eyes, taunting and enticing. She thought about Sirens, luring sailors into rocks, and wondered if she’d survive whatever pain this would draw her to. If her reawakened need for answers would lead her to destruction just as it had before.

She turned into Blake’s chest, blocking out the room and focussing on the sound of her wife’s heart beating, the place she’d truly made her home, and inhaled her scent trying to gather herself. Blake was running her fingers through Yang’s hair, giving her time.

She needed that, there’d been so little these last few years, and Blake knew without a word. They were teased often by Weiss, sometimes by Ilia, that they communicated mainly with glances. That they’d gone from their tentative reunion to being sickeningly close so quickly that Weiss had at first worried that Yang had been kidnapped when she found all of her stuff was missing from their shared room (she’d rolled her eyes when it’d all turned up, along with Yang, in Blake’s room like it was always supposed to have been there, but there was a quirk in her lips which passed for a smile).They did talk of course, in private mostly, what passed between them however was for them alone, and glances oft sufficed when you’d lived in someone’s heart.

Words could be difficult but given time and a bit of privacy she’d gather them. Even then she spoke haltingly. “I just thought I was done you know. With her, all the shit she gave me. She died. I don’t want...” She choked out a sob, pressing her face into Blake’s stomach. Not hiding, just comfort. “I mean how am I supposed to feel about this? I thought I knew... After I met her, after Haven, I knew where we stood. I accepted that. Then she tries to actually be a mother, just once, and it kills her.” Her arms tighten around Blake like she’s the only thing tethering her. Blake exhales, air squeezed out of her, but pulls Yang closer too. “And now I get some cryptic letter and... I... I don’t...”

She trails off and Blake lays a trio of kisses on her head, fingers still combing her hair gently. “You never really had time to process it all.” Yang can’t bring herself to respond but she loosens her grip and nuzzles closer and Blake seems to take it as encouragement. “The world was falling apart and everyone needed you to be strong, and you were.” Another kiss. “You were so strong.” She brings her hand up, stroking Yang’s cheek. “But you have time now, time to process, to grieve.”

Yang tried to laugh but it got caught up in a sob and then muffled by Blake’s shirt. “You trying to tell me to slow down Belladonna?”

Blake cupped her cheek more firmly bringing Yang’s eyes to her own. “We could both use some rest, whether we do that here, Vale, Menagerie or while chasing your mom’s buried treasure is up to you. Whatever you decide I’m with you.” Blake’s eyes were calm and calming, her promise soaked into Yang’s skin like a balm.

She imagined herself travelling. Her younger self’s enthusiasm for the activity had been sapped a little, she’d seen much of the world over the last 3 years but had never really had the time or peace of mind to enjoy it all. But travelling with Blake, her partner, her wife, carried a different feeling. Not exhilaration or excitement _(well, maybe a little excitement)_ but peace, not what she’d always wanted but very much what she needed. Her fears diminished, the loneliness of her past faded in the company of her future. Whatever pain awaited her she could survive it, she wasn’t the girl she had been the last time she’d chased Raven. She wasn’t lonely anymore.

She pulled herself up, closer to Blake. Her wife was right after all, she needed this and had for a while, the war with Salem had worn them all down and she hadn’t ever had time to reflect on her mother’s death. Maybe now was that time, maybe she could finally find some closure. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She leaned in and kissed her and it felt like resolve.


	2. Habisukasu

_Start at the beginning, North of what life and I could never be,_

_Find me and follow my gaze, to where my brother found himself and set ablaze_

_The folly of youth held me still, witnessed beneath a hammer for good or ill_

 

“So first pirates and now flowers, Mom really was a weird one.” The sea air agreed with her, or at least the sea breeze gently tussling her hair as she leant against the boat’s railing had Yang looking especially picturesque. Blake took a moment to appreciate the sight before replying.

“Half the towns on Anima are named after flowers, it’d be more surprising if she’d managed to grow up there and not pick some of that up.” Yang turned to her and she found herself drawn back to the last time she’d sailed away from Vale, despairing, wounded and lonelier than ever, she’d have given anything to have Yang safe and by her side then. She quickly pushed it from her mind, it was a side effect perhaps of somehow ending up on the exact same ship (apparently Yang also knew the captain from her first journey to Mistral, clearly the shipping community of Remnant was apparently smaller than Blake had assumed it might be).

“So. Habisukasu.” Her tone was thoughtful, leaving her father’s cabin had calmed her a little, or perhaps cleared her head, she’d seemed a little zoned out while Blake and Taiyang had sorted the details of their journey.

“Apparently she was born on a hilltop near there, seems as close to ‘the beginning’ as we’re going to get, and the flower symbolises gentleness.”

Yang rolled her eyes at that, “‘What life and I could never be’.” She snorted. “What a drama queen.”

“I know. So hard to believe you two are related sometimes.” If the sarcasm in her voice didn’t give it away the smirk across her face did and Yang’s brow furrowed in mock indignation.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Yang’s impression of Weiss left much to be desired, and Weiss had encased Bumblebee in a block of ice the last time she’d overheard it, but it still left Blake responding through giggles.

“Remember mantle.” Yang actually looked a little affronted at that, and Blake stifled herself, curious to see how she’d defend the incident.

“He specifically told me it was conditioner! The Armed Response Unit totally blew it out of proportion and you know it.” Blake was laughing now, it didn’t seem to make Yang feel any better but the memory of her storming a pharmacy wrapped in a towel was a personal favourite.

“You threatened to burn down the city.”

“It was a reasonable reaction!” She huffed and shook her head returning to the railing, but there was a subtle smile on her lips even if she tried to hide it. “Whatever. At least it washed out. Eventually.”

Blake knew she should stop teasing. She knew but pushed a little further regardless. “It wasn’t so bad, green really is your colour.” The look Yang gave her was a cross between a glare and a pout. Blake decided to be merciful. “I meant yellow, yellow is your colour. Gold even! Have I mentioned how pretty you look today?”

Yang shook her head, smile back at full force and Blake kissed her gently, “So pretty.”

They stood in silence for a while, shoulders brushing, and watched the sea pass by together, Blake could almost feel Yang slip back into her own head, but she gave her some time to think before nudging her to speak.

“Why did she do this?” There was an edge of frustration to Yang’s voice but the words were soft, practically a whisper, mechanical fingers drumming a hollow rhythm on the ship’s railing. Blake replied just as gently.

“The map in general? Or sending it to you?”

Yang paused, weighing up her thoughts before speaking. “Both I guess. I mean why me and not her tribe, she’s always chosen them before.” There was hurt in her voice, under the exasperated tone, resentment too. Raven’s choice had haunted her all her life, the idea that it could be so suddenly changed did not seem to comfort her. Blake wondered if it was the timing of the change that troubled her or simply that it had happened at all.

“I don’t know. Maybe she was questioning herself, maybe she felt she owed you, hopefully she’ll have left some clue in this vault of hers.” It was an empty reassurance at best, but a single thread of tension unravelled in her wife’s shoulders and her face slipped from frustrated to merely grumpy.

“She didn’t have to make it so complicated though, this is only the first clue of who knows how many. What she couldn’t have just sent us an address?”

Blake smirked at that, Yang was never one to shirk hardship, but patience had never been her strong suit. “Maybe she wanted us to work for it.”

The other woman rolled her eyes, “Doesn’t fit her all that well. She never worked for anything in her life, just took whatever she wanted.”

“We all have our little hypocrisies.” Blake murmured the words, caught in her own head suddenly. In clearer moments she could recognise how different she was from Raven, how far apart their motivations and decisions took them, but sometimes she found herself tangled in their superficial similarities. Sometimes she wondered if she was right for Yang.

She almost missed the Blondes curious expression. “That felt like a jab.”

She shook her head. “A light one, and aimed at myself more than you.” _Though on reflection_ , “Now that you mention it though the girl who keeps reminding me to take some time for myself every once in a while doesn’t seem to listen to her own advice very often.”

Yang swayed a little bumping their shoulders together playfully, “I’m listening now.”

“You are. I’m proud of you.” It sounded much too patronising out loud and she only hoped her sincerity came across as she continued. “And thank you, for bringing me with you.”

Yang leaned away from the side of the ship grinning as she looked down into Blake’s eyes. “Well Ruby was busy and Weiss still refuses to share a tent with me.”

She laughed at that, turning her back to the sea as Yang settled in front of her taking her hands. “At least I beat out Jaune.”

Yang nodded relaxing into her wife’s touch, if Blake couldn’t solve her problems for her then she’d at least remind the blonde that she didn’t have to dwell on them. “Oh definitely. Ren too. The guy’s always critiquing my cooking, like seriously, I had to teach myself when I was four years old, cut me some slack.”

“I think your cooking’s lovely.”

It was a simple compliment, and a true one, but Yang leaned in to her and looked every bit like she’d been awarded a crown. “See. This is why you’re my favourite.”

“Just that?” Blake leaned into her in turn, the sea air of the early evening wasn’t cold exactly but that didn’t mean the faunus was averse to being warmer, her head pressed into the crook of Yang’s neck breathing honey, lemon and gunpowder.

“There are other reasons.” She couldn’t see Yang’s face from here but she could hear it in her voice, feel that smile turn mischievous against her hair. “Wanna go test how soundproof our cabin is?”

Blake pushed her away gently but only to take her hand and step towards the door, rolling her hips as she did, she was hardly going to refuse after all. She sent a truly evil smirk over her shoulder and could almost taste the shivers it sent down her wife’s spine. “It might be safer if I simply gag you with this scarf of yours.”

Yang played along, fluttering her eyelashes and covering her mouth in utterly facetious bashfulness. “Why Mrs Xio Long, whatever do you mean? My pure and virginal heart is not prepared for such perversions.”

She turned, taking the blondes other hand and kicking the door open behind her. She let her eyes rake over Yang’s form as she stepped back through the doorway, dropping her voice to a distinctly sultry tone. “Oh please. _Mrs Belladonna_. You knew exactly what you were getting in to.”

 

There had come a point in Blake’s life that she had finally resigned herself to the endless ‘bumblebee’ jokes. They were rather obvious after all, perhaps the only surprise was that it tended not to be her wife making them, and people will always go for low hanging fruit. Whether it was their team attack name, the monstrous grimm Weiss had summoned whist drunk at their wedding, the matching sweaters her mom had knitted them after learning of said wedding or Ilia practicing for weeks to turn herself stripy just to tease Blake silently and from afar. The little nods (or were they jabs?) to her partnership’s iconic colours followed her everywhere she went. It seemed a little prophetic then in hindsight that a full year before they even met Yang bestowed the name on her precious motorbike.

Though to be fair it did fit the name. It buzzed beneath them now, the frame had been adjusted and Yang had equipped saddlebags and a pair of off-road tires for the journey allowing them to make good time across the wilderness of Mistral (Yang liked to tease her sister that she’d spent months crossing Anima on foot whereas the blonde had taken a motorbike and a portal and managed it in just over a week).

Blake tightened her grip around her wife’s waist, shut her eyes and pressed her nose into Yang’s chaotically fluttering hair. She had protested Yang’s lack of a safety helmet at first but quickly relented, Yang’s aura could survive being hit by a train (and had in fact) so a tumble off a bike wouldn’t hurt her, and she was glad of it now, the road was monotonous but the beauty of the wilderness coupled with the scent of her partner had a soothing and profoundly positive effect on her soul.

Their journey otherwise had been rather quiet passing the time together mostly with intervals for reading and keeping touch with their friends, Ilia was quite comfortably managing the renewed White Fang in her absence but the organisation was very much Blake’s baby and she’d always worry. The captain of the ship had invited them to dinner on the final evening of their voyage and they’d swapped tales of the past two years over some exquisite and freshly caught seafood. Yang had seemed pensive for much of their time, or perhaps thoughtful would be a more accurate term, but not worryingly so. Blake let her have the time to think and contented herself with the light, playful verbal sparring that came so easily to them now.

Yang looked over her shoulder, a small smile on her lips as Blake’s eyes flicked open and up to her. “Habisukasu is just ahead!” She called it, faint over the sound of the engine, but even pressed to her head away from the wind Blake’s ears picked up the words.

Blake nodded and pointed to a prominent near-mountain just north of them. “Think that’s the hill your dad mentioned?”

Yang mouthed the affirmative and turned back to the dirt track they’d taken driving the last couple of minutes in comfortable silence.

They dismounted at the village gates, the engine flicking off left Blake almost caught of guard by the relative silence, and she stretched her saddle-weary muscles, slipping a knowing smirk as Yang tried and failed to avoid staring. “It’s about midday right? Shall we grab lunch here and walk up the hill this afternoon?”

“Sounds good. With any luck we’ll find a room for the night too, sleeping on the ground has been killing my neck.” She grumbled harmlessly pushing Bumblebee beside her, Blake threw her a grin that was a little too innocent to be believed.

“Really? My pillow’s been lovely.”

Yang rolled her eyes. “Har har. Well ‘your pillow’ is in need of a proper mattress before she throws out her spine; so keep those sharp eyes of yours looking for an Inn.”

They find one quickly, the town is rather small, a cosy place with hot, savoury pastries and an affordable (and more importantly clean) room for them to stow their bags in. Yang leaves Bumblebee around the side, secured with a padlock yet judging by the flickering lights Blake catches flitting between her palms she stills seems to feel the need to add a little extra deterrent to any would be thieves (Blake can’t tell exactly what she’s done from this distance but no doubt it’s something Weiss would describe as ‘an egregious misuse of the ancient magic entrusted to her’). Bouncing over, a worryingly proud look on her face, Yang takes her hand and they set off up the hill.

 

It wasn’t often that Blake took the time to enjoy nature (in person at least, she frequently enjoyed the descriptions of nature found in the pages of the nearest paperback) and it seemed that she’d completely forgotten how peaceful it could be. This was probably a consequence of the Huntress lifestyle of course, usually any excursion into a forest for her would entail a pitched battle against the monsters of other people’s nightmares followed by field rations followed by more battle. It was something of a wake-up call now to realise that in most of the vast wilderness that covered Remnant; nothing ever happened. She could almost lose herself in the quiet.

Almost.

There was one thing, after all, happening in her particular little corner of wilderness. The closer they got to the hilltop the tenser Yang became, there was a question behind her lips and she was wrestling with it, and as much as Blake treasured silence this was one she was willing to have broken. She squeezed the hand in hers and it was all the prompting Yang needed.

“Should I care?” Her eyes studied the ground, distress etching lines around them. “Like, do I really owe her all this effort?”

Blake paused for a moment, she studied Yang’s face trying to see the thoughts hiding behind golden bangs. She spoke softly. “You don’t owe her anything, but that’s not what you’re really asking.”

Yang shook her head, lips in a grimace. “I guess… After Haven I gave up on her. She left me, again, and I realised I could finally move on with my life. No more mysteries, no more wondering why she left, no more hoping that she’d come around. I never needed her in my life but after that I realised I didn’t want her in it either, and it hurt but I really was okay with it.” She took a deep breath and Blake wondered if she’d ever said that out loud before, ever realised how much she needed to. Yang turned and gave a smile, pained but not altogether false. “Besides I had you back, my whole team back. My heart didn’t feel like it had gaps in it anymore. I accepted it and moved on.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it didn’t seem like the whole truth either, Blake considered her next question carefully. “Do you wish she’d stayed gone?”

Brows furrowed, they reached a rocky outcrop and Yang took a moment to haul herself up before offering her hand to Blake. “No? Maybe. I mean logically I know that we’d have died if it weren’t for her so it’s not like I can reasonably say that I wish she hadn’t been there. But it was just simpler before, she was the shittiest mom on Remnant and I knew how to handle that. Then she comes back…”

They continue walking and Yang makes a gesture with her hands. “…gone.” She swallows thickly and Blake re-joins their hands, rubbing circles with her thumb. “And suddenly I’m a little kid again wondering why she did it, wondering if I’m the one to blame and suddenly, just like that, I fucking care again.” She shakes her head like she’s trying to clear it, hair flying wild and shimmering gold in the afternoon light. “And I guess it stuck with me because here I am two years on chasing her ghost like I’m that five-year-old in pigtails back for round two.”

The image catches Blake off guard and she speaks without thinking. “You used to have pigtails?” Yang gives her a flat look and she averts her eyes bashfully while simultaneously making a mental note to ask Tai for Yang’s baby pictures. “Right. Not the point. Yang, your emotions are valid. There’s nothing that you should feel or shouldn’t feel. If you do feel this way, if you care, that’s fine. You don’t owe her anything, not resentment for the years that she missed and not gratitude for the day she was there, but you owe it to yourself to accept the things that trouble you without judging yourself for doing it.”

Yang looks down conflict flickering across her face, when she looks up her smile is so clearly forced. “Sounds easy when you say it.”

Blake turns, nudging her wife with her elbow and bringing her to a halt, expression schooled to a gentle scold. “It’s not, it never is. I don’t know how you feel, I only know what you tell me, but I’m here for you no matter what.”

Yang looks embarrassed but meets her eyes, smile a little more natural. “What would I do without you?”

She smiles back and lays a pair of kissed on the blonde’s jawline. “You’ll never have to find out.”

“Even when I get old and boring?”

She’s fishing and Blake knows it, but she kisses the tip of her wife’s nose and indulges her anyway. “C’mon, you’ve seen me in a library, I love old and boring.”

Yang meets her lips then, stepping forwards and pressing their bodies together and Blake sinks into the moment. She toys with the idea of staying here, kissing Yang for hours and sleeping under the stars. But they’d come here to find something (and besides, Yang really did seem to be looking forwards to that mattress) so at length she pulled away.

“Let’s keep moving, the trees are thinning out, we’re pretty close to the top.” Yang glanced over her shoulder at the peak, determination stirring and solidifying in her eyes. She nodded and they continued to climb.

The view that greeted them was sublime, the sun was low in the sky though not quite setting yet teasing the world with just a hint of its approaching orange hues, the forest beneath them stretched out like a blanket and to the west they could make out Lake Matsu and the fabled islands that floated high above its waters. She cosied up to Yang as the mountain chill nipped at her and saw the blonde’s eyes fixed to a rock.

Stepping over to it she could make out an image carved into it, a raven flying forward. Yang’s grip tightened on her hand and she followed its eyeline to the horizon southwest of them. There was a spot silhouetted against the sky; peering she thought it might be a tree, clearly ancient and far larger than anything around it, Yang’s voice came out strained.

“Anything of note in that direction?” Blake looked up at her, wondering briefly if she had been hoping to find the hilltop bare, but stayed quiet. She slipped her scroll out of her pocket and released Yang’s hand, pressing herself into her wife’s side as an arm rested around her shoulders.

Bringing up her map she studied it for a moment. “A town about forty miles away, though the road’s not really direct, Hyakunichisou.” She considered it a moment trying to recall. “Loyalty.”

Yang let out a deep breath. Blake pocketed her scroll and wrapped her arms around her wife’s waist, humming as the embrace was returned. “I guess we’d better follow.” Her voice shook ever so slightly and Blake leant into her, offering comfort.

“Tomorrow. Okay?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because Raven was a fan of old pirate stories doesn't mean she's necessarily good at writing vaguely poetic cryptic clues, or maybe it's me who's bad at writing them (it's totally me!).
> 
> In other news typing this strange Americanisation of 'mum' feels weird, but I persevere. For you lovely people. And series continuity.
> 
> Let me know what you think, I really appreciate the comments you guys leave (even when I'm bad at answering)!


	3. Hyakunichisou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang and Blake meet someone from Raven's past.

Getting out of bed would have been difficult even if she hadn’t woken up still tired. It was a comfy bed after all, with excellent company. Not large by any measure but it didn’t need to be (Blake lost all sense of personal space when she slept; finding Yang’s body and doing her best impression of a cocoon). She lay there instead, content to let Blake wake in her own time, and let her mind wander.

The carving made it real. This journey at least; they had picked up the trail, proved it even existed, and now it would lead somewhere. She struggled to pinpoint why that bothered her. Perhaps part of her was holding on to that idea that it was all some twisted joke, that there was nothing out there to find. Because if this was all fake then maybe she wouldn’t have to deal with how terrible it made her feel.

She swallowed down the lump in her throat glancing around the room. Her prosthetic lay on the bedside table and she thought about putting it on; it made her feel tougher, able to weather storms and survive turmoil, but she knew that wasn’t what she needed to feel right now. She turned back into Blake and focussed on the feeling of those arms around her. She lifted her hand and began combing her fingers through the faunus’ hair, inhaling and counting her breaths, gently so as not to wake her she centred herself on the touch and pushed everything else away. She didn’t need to be tough right now, but she wanted to be safe.

She wasn’t sure in the end when Blake woke up, she was stroking her wife’s hair one moment and the next she was buried in her chest, silent tears soaking through that black kimono.

“Nightmares?” Blake’s voice grounded her more than the woman would ever know. It was a reasonable question; they were both plagued by their pasts, the battles, death’s, injuries and abuses this world had poured upon them both, but Yang shook her head. Nightmares after all first required sleep, and she’d had precious little of that.

“Just… Thoughts.” She mumbled the words into the faunus’ chest,. Blake’s hand came up to cup her head as is she could pick those thoughts out in her fingertips, silly perhaps but it helped.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head and pulled closer, her mind felt as if it were swirling, she couldn’t explain them if she tried. Blake rubbed circles across her back, her voice felt hoarse even now and the words she wished for seemed just out of reach. “Thank you.” She said, simply and eventually. “Thank you for being here, for helping me with this.”

Blake hummed and tightened her grip ever so slightly. “Of course.” Lips pressed gently to the top of Yang’s head. “It’s like you told me back in Atlas, we both have demons in our pasts, but we’ll always face them together.

She nodded at that, “I think I preferred fighting Adam.” She worried the moment she uttered the words that they were a mistake, straining her neck as she looked up to read her wife’s reaction.

Half a dozen expressions flickered across her face in a second but settled on a sad smile. “I doubt that.” She paused, a look akin to determination on her face. “And anyway, he’s dead.” Yang recognised the edge in her voice, knew that the scars he left behind had Blake struggling to believe he could really gone at times, that she was reassuring herself more than reminding Yang. She found her wife’s hand and interlaced their fingers squeezing slightly as Yang pulled herself up to place a kiss on her lips. Golden eyes flicked back to hers and the faunus smiled. “We don’t have to follow this, we can leave it completely of come back to it if this isn’t what you want.”

The option was tempting, but as long as she had questions she’d be thinking about it, she couldn’t give up yet. “No, we can keep going for n…” Her stomach interrupted her, growling loudly, and the tension broke as Blake giggled.

“Breakfast then?”

The last dredges of the moment passed under that smile. “Well if you insist.”

 

* * *

 

She hadn’t done much off road biking before this and upon consideration she probably wouldn’t be doing much after. It was engaging, the uneven terrain and unpredictable surface proved challenging to navigate, but progress felt much slower. It didn’t capture that same sense of freedom that high speeds on an open road conjured for her.

Blake didn’t seem all that happy with the arrangement either, though she’d been kind enough to indulge her, clinging to Yang’s back with a fearful ferocity. The bike’s suspension probably wasn’t being kind to her either; swapping out the tires didn’t mean it was truly prepared for this sort of treatment.

Still the exercise had helped, keeping Yang’s mind on the dirt track in front of her and off… well, anything else.

They reached Hyakunichisou around mid-afternoon after a late start. The town was notably larger than Habisukasu but still existed almost completely in the shadow of a single enormous tree located in an open area in the middle of the settlement. Branches reached out over their heads even as they approached the gates. The leaves, still green and full, sheltering them from the late summer sun. They took a moment just to take in its scale.

“First time seeing it?” Yang glanced around for the voice as the gates closed smoothly behind her; catching sight of an old but sturdy looking man sitting on the porch of one of the aging wooden houses lining the street. “Chikaradzuyoi we call it. It’ll cover the town in leaves in a month or so but for now we can just enjoy the shade.”

She shared a look with Blake, silent permission, then spoke up. “It’s beautiful. You live here?”

“I was born here.” His smile slightly wistful, “Travelled the world a while then came back to enjoy my retirement.” He pushed himself to his feet, in the corner of her eye she could see Blakes ears flinch at the sound of creaking joints, but once upright he walked with a natural rolling gait; tall and still rather broad even now. He seemed an old bear, grizzled and past his fighting days but strong none the less. He reached out to shake her hand. “You two are huntresses am I right?”

Yang took his hand in a brief but firm handshake, “What gave us away.” She spoke with a smile he returned; before gesturing to her left wrist and the sword hilt poking over Blake’s shoulder.

“Those weapons of yours are custom, and I recognise the eyes; seen too many like them over the years.”

“What do you mean?” She spoke cautiously, Huntresses and Huntsmen were usually welcomed in the outlying towns, but some saw them as heralds of doom and swindlers so disdain and even outright hostility were not unheard of.

“Oh, I don’t mean to offend, I was a huntsman myself, just that I know the kinds of things that job does to you, what it takes.” His eyes were clouded for a moment, somewhere very far away, then he shook his head. “Old as I am, it’s hard to see those burdens on the shoulders of the young.”

“Thanks.” She replied, unable to keep a hint of defensiveness from her voice. “But we bear them just fine. I’m Yang, this is my wife and partner Blake.”

“Shiro.” He nodded to them both in turn then gestured toward the town centre. “If you’d like I could give you a tour?”

“That’d be great.”

They meandered through the streets slowly approaching the base of the enormous tree that marked the town centre. Shiro chatted away all the while as Yang pushed her bike alongside her, Blake walking on her left and intertwining their fingers.

“You can see a lot of the houses on the other side of the square are made of stone; about, I don’t know, maybe 40 years ago there was a fire. Not sure how it started though the loudest rumour blamed a couple of kids from out of town,” She shared a look with Blake at that, the line in Raven’s riddle about Qrow setting ablaze coming to mind. _And knowing his luck..._ “Regardless it burned down near half the town at the time, people were uneasy about sleeping in wooden houses after that. You can still see the scorch marks up the side of Chikaradzuyoi there.”

Up close the tree was even more impressive, the trunk wide enough to fit the old beacon tower inside several times over, and true to his words one side seemed to be scarred by fire. The bark was blackened by its own ash and while it was re-growing and healing at the edges the damage to it was clearly so deep that it would require at least another four decades before it would truly appear well again.

“Thank you for the tour Shiro,” Now having an idea for the place she decided to brush him off gently. “One last thing, do you happen to know where we could find a blacksmith?”

“Need some repairs, do you?” He glanced again at the pair’s pristine weapons, an eyebrow raised, but answered anyway. “The only one around worth visiting is Hagane’s just down the road there.” He turned offering a parting wave. “You two be safe now, I’ll be around if you need anything.”

With that he sauntered back across the square whistling to himself and waving to some of the other townsfolk. She turned to Blake. “Well, he was nice.”

Blake gave a noncommittal shrug, pocketing the book that had materialised in her hand about halfway through their tour. “Blacksmith?”

“I was thinking about that ‘under a hammer’ line. Thought blacksmith was our best bet, we can look for an auction house or something if it’s a dead end.”

Blake nodded at her logic, a faint smile played on her lips but her eyes scanned Yang as if searching for cracks. Yang let her, Blake was the only one allowed to see them after all. After a moment she nodded again and they continued down the road.

The blacksmith was one of the newer stone buildings; a simple sign and open door at the front with the forge itself at the back, judging by the rhythmic hammer strikes ringing through the air. The man at the counter was a little older than the two of them and in addition to a set of wandering eyes had a slight build marking him as very much not a blacksmith himself; the store was otherwise empty and so Yang approached him directly.

“Welcome to Hagne’s Smithy outsider, how can I help you?”

Ignoring his leering gaze, save for moving herself to obscure his view of Blake, she opted for the direct approach. “Hi, I was wondering if you’ve ever met someone named Raven Branwen?”

He froze at that, his eyes darting below the counter at what was no doubt some sort of weapon, Yang placed her robotic hand on the counter as a warning and felt a guilty spike of pleasure as the colour drained from his face. He turned his head slowly towards an open door behind him. “Mom! There’s some people here asking about Raven!”

The hammering from the forge stopped instantly and Yang’s aura thrummed. She took a step back and took a more relaxed stance hoping she hadn’t either walked into a trap or built one around herself.

She wasn’t to be so lucky it seemed as a stout woman and a heavily muscled man burst through the door both wielding shotguns. The woman’s eyes carried a desperate sort of anger, but they widened the moment they landed on Yang.

“Gods.” She murmured, the gun lowering but still very much pointed at the blonde’s chest. “You look so much like her.”

 

* * *

 

There were still some wary looks thrown around, but nobody was pointing a gun at them anymore and Yang was prepared to call that a win.

The back of the smithy was nice enough, a simple dining room sat them comfortably with a few family photographs scattered around. The décor was meagre but tasteful; exactly what one might expect from a small-town blacksmith and exactly the opposite of what Yang expected from anyone who associated with her mother. The dim lighting had her on the verge of yawning, the urge to catch up on the last week’s sleep whispering in her ear before she shoved it away.

A young woman, too similar in face to the older woman to be anyone other than her daughter and with arms to rival the blacksmith who was presumably her father, carried in a tray of teacups and a pot; walking around the table and pouring everyone a cup in turn while maintaining the awkward silence that had hung over the room for the last few minutes.

Turning Yang caught her wife’s eyes glued to the aforementioned arms of the young blacksmith, though she did at least have the curtesy to look embarrassed when she realised that she’d been caught, blushing and mumbling something to herself as Yang shook her head amusedly.

The older woman, Verdé she’d introduced herself, cleared her throat as if to speak only to fall silent again glancing uncomfortably around the room for reprieve.

Yang spoke instead. “So how did you know her?”

“She saved my life once” Yang waited for the punchline. “You look surprised, from what I’ve heard about her since I don’t blame you.” Verdé settled in her seat a little more and her voice changed timbre; it was faintly nostalgic, a distant memory of Summer sitting on her bed and reading to her flitted across her mind and disappeared just as swiftly. “It was decades ago, a couple of days before our wedding in fact. I was out picking flowers for the bouquet, didn’t really have much money between us at the time you see; we had to do it all ourselves. I was so lost in my own head I didn’t notice it approach. A grimm, tall with a head like a wolf, must’ve been only a few metres behind me. I screamed, tried to run but…” The fear in her voice was palpable. It struck Yang, not for the first time, how unusual it must seem to others for her to be so unafraid of the grimm. After years of fighting far worse horrors it was easy to forget that even the lesser grimm were still terrifying. “And then this girl, couldn’t have been more than 12 years old, jumped into the clearing with a sword and…” She made a gesture with her hands which didn’t explain all that much but just about got the point across. “It happened so fast, or at least it feels that way now.” She looked down at her hands and took a deep breath before looking back to Yang. “Then she tried to rob me of course.”

A short laugh bubbled out of Yang before she could stop it, tinged though it was with bitterness. “Now that sounds more like her.”

An amused smile crossed Verdé's face. “Well she wasn’t very good at it. I mean I had nothing, even the flowers I’d been collected were scattered all over the floor by that point. I remember she looked so grumpy, almost petulant, it wasn’t until then I noticed how young she actually was, she seemed older fighting that monster. Then out of nowhere she offers to walk me back to the village.” Yang tried to imagine that, Raven seemed like she might have been a rebellious teen, but what might it look like exactly to rebel against a bandit clan? “Well of course then I wonder if she meant to hold me hostage but as soon as we get to the edge of the forest she simply disappears. Maybe it was pity, there had been a fire recently you see and almost half the village was gone, maybe she didn’t want to rob people already so poor. Or perhaps my constant babbling on our walk back had left her sick of me, who knows.” She shrugged heavily but didn’t move to speak again until Yang prompted her.

“What happened then?”

“I got on with my life, a bit more cautious and a bit afraid of the forest, but I just kept going. I never forgot that day of course, had nightmares for years about that beast and her sword, but I never really had cause to think about it either. Then five years ago she appears on my doorstep. I recognised her immediately, she was older but you don’t forget eyes like that, and I let her in when she asked even as the whole village looked on from behind drawn curtains. I never expected her to remember me. She didn't say much, just that she was a foolish child when we'd last met and she was here to indulge her foolishness once more.” She reached into her pocket bringing out a sealed envelope. It looked old, the paper slightly yellowed, but pristine and undamaged. “She gave me this, told me that someday someone would come to collect it. The thing terrified me, but I dared not throw it away, not after what I’d heard about her. So it sat in a cupboard collecting dust. Until now. That is why you’re here yes?” She looked between them with a fearful sort of hope and Yang understood the hostile reception; no doubt she’d been living in fear of other bandits or warlords to come kicking down her door. _Something Raven probably never gave a second thought._

“It is. Thank you.” She took the envelope and felt that same sort of seizing sensation she’d felt looking at the carving, one more step down a path she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to walk. A wave of nausea and fatigue rolled over her. Blake seemed to notice, covering for her immediately.

“And thank you for the tea, it was lovely.” She rose to her feet gracefully, running her fingers down Yang’s arm and linking their hands, drawing Yang up too. “We should get going now, we don’t want to take up anymore of your time.”

The others stood too, Verdé giving a smile even as she wrung her hands nervously. “Oh, don’t worry about that, I’m just glad to have the matter settled. It is settled isn’t it?”

Blake smiled reassuringly. “Yes, there won’t be anyone else asking after this.”

 

* * *

 

_Looking around us we saw a flower, and in that moment we perceived it the same._

_But flying west together we split apart, each following its petals to our greatest shame._

_I buried my past and let it lie, carving my name and returning to the sky._

 

She mulled over the words as her eyes readjusted to the early evening sun.

“Are you okay?” Blake followed her out into the street, Yang moving over to Bumblebee and running her fingers across the leather of the saddle before replying.

“I’m fine. It was weird hearing about her like that but not… I don’t know, not like bad weird.” She considered for a moment. “Five years ago. She didn’t make this treasure hunt for me, did she?”

Blake’s eyes regarded her cautiously. “Probably not. She gave you the only map though, whatever’s here, she only wanted you to see it.”

“For all that’s worth.” She exhaled shortly. “I guess we’re headed west then.”

Blake flicked her scroll out of her pocket quickly bringing up the map. “Looks like it should take us to… Oh.”

The look in Blake’s eye was troubling, still she tried to keep her tone light. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It takes us to Higanbana.” She met Yang’s eyes with a look that carried more meaning than Yang could grasp from the words.

“Sounds familiar, didn’t Ruby go through there on the way to Haven?”

“Yeah. She did.” The faunus swallowed, her voice trembled ever so slightly. “Yang. The name. It means abandonment.”

The words rang in her ears a moment, the surrounding noise of the town faded to silence, and she felt numb. “Her greatest shame.”

And then she didn’t.

“No.” Her blood seethed. “No! She doesn’t get to do this!” Her fingers dragged through her hair, nails scoring pain into her skull. “She _left,_ she never looked back, she never made amends and she never tried!” She knew she was shouting, was vaguely aware that people were staring, but the air around her felt like it would catch alight. “Now I’m supposed to believe that she, even for an instant, regretted it? No!”

Blake gently placed a hand on her shoulder; her eyes shone with concern, but Yang couldn’t bring herself to meet them and she pulled away.

“And now she wants to rewrite history? Like it was all some fucking joke… Like I just didn’t get it?” Her head was spinning, her mind clearer and more clouded than ever all at once as her throat closed up on her. “I’m not her fucking toy, she doesn’t get to screw with me like this.”

Her body turned to lead, the lack of sleep these past weeks crashing into her like a tsunami. Blake’s arms wrapped around her shoulders and dully she realised that she was on her knees. “I don’t want to be here.” Her voice was unbearably fragile and all at once she could hear again; the whispers and murmurs of the other people on the street, feeling their eyes scraping across her skin. She felt sick. “Please, we need to go.” She needed to feel the wind through her hair, needed to run and scream some place where only Blake could see her tears. The faunus brought her face up and studied her eyes for a second. Blake glanced at the horizon; the sun would be setting soon, long before they reached another town. Silently Yang begged her not to question it.

Blake looked back into her eyes and nodded once. Carefully she drew Yang to her feet and they left Hyakunichisou behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was looking through the various meanings that the Japanese have given flowers and I found that the Red Spider Lily meant 'abandonment' I was like "Wow that's perfect!". Then about 30 seconds later I realised that CRWBY had already noticed and used it. Oh well.
> 
> I'm not so confident about this chapter, it meanders a bit more than I'd like, but I can't find a way I'm happy with to cut it down. Plus I'm really happy with what I have of the next chapter so far and I didn't really want to delay putting this out.
> 
> I really appreciate the feedback you guys have given, writing is very much a learning experience for me. Let me know what you think and I'll see you all next chapter.


	4. Higanbana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little bit of smut in this one, there's not much of it and I've tried to write it more focused on intimacy than eroticism, but if it's not your thing then it starts after the first horizontal line and finishes at the second.

There was something so exhilarating about Yang’s strength, especially in moments like this.

The first time she’d noticed had been back at Beacon. The school had offered an abundance of ways to hone one’s body, her preferred exercises had been the obstacle courses and climbing walls with a few forays into the sparring mats, and as a result Blake decided that she had no real use of the weightlifting area. So, when Yang dragged her over to it (claiming that she needed a new spotter because Nora had eaten 50 donuts on a dare and was thus unavailable due to crippling stomach pains) she hadn’t really expected to get much out of the experience.

The role of Yang’s spotter was largely a formality given the woman’s clear level of confidence and control, and that was just as well considering Blake stood very little chance of actually being able to catch the sheer weight that the blonde was lifting, so it afforded an opportunity for Blake to really study her partner.

And study she did.

It was, in a word, mesmerising. The smooth motion of her muscles, the way they strained and pulled taught like steel cords beneath softly flushing skin. The controlled rhythm of her breath did worryingly wonderful things across the toned expanse of her torso and the slight tremble in her breath and arm on the last repetition all but stopped Blake’s heart.

Quite simply it filled her with thoughts she was not ready to think at the time. Feelings she was not ready to feel.

She was ready now.

The air swirled around her, alight with magic, and Yang stood motionless in the eye of the storm radiating power. The griffon they had been hired to kill circled above them taking a break from harassing the isolated farm they’d stumbled across; it was old, intelligent enough to take to the skies as soon as they had approached and stay outside the effective range of her and Yang's weapons, but not intelligent enough to recognise the magic, as old as the world itself, that dwelled in Yang’s veins.

As the clouds darkened and rumbled, ancient magic kept their little clearing lit with a soft glow hanging in the air, interwoven with the golden threads of Yang’s aura. The sensation was almost overwhelming for the faunus, like immersing herself in her wife’s soul.

The griffon was struggling now, the wind dragging it toward them, and it seemed to realise it’s predicament. Yang raised her hand, two fingers pointed at the grimm like the barrel of a gun. The air swirled faster, howling and whipping Blake’s hair across her face. Yang’s wrist kicked with imaginary recoil and Blake could’ve sworn she heard a soft 'pow' fall from the blonde's lips, but it was drowned out, lightning struck the grimm from half a dozen directions and thunder roared its approval. The griffon cried and flailed as it fell, smoking and ruined, to the ground; wind still guided it, the fall leading it to crash scarce meters away from the pair of them. Yang looked on proudly.

There was anger there too. Not so much at the grimm, Yang had never developed the hatred for those soulless beings which seemed to affect so many hunters, she understood what they were and that they needed to be destroyed but rarely displayed any sort of enmity toward them, meeting them instead with a smile, a wink and a bone-shattering punch to the face. She certainly wasn’t angry with this grimm either. But she was angry, and this griffon offered an outlet.

Yang strolled over to its broken body as the air calmed and cooled around them. She looked down at the grimm, then looked over her shoulder to Blake her expression indecipherable. Blake gave her a small nod. She turned back to the grimm and lifted her hand, fingers curled into a fist. Then she crushed its skull.

 

* * *

 

There was something so exhilarating about Yang’s strength, especially in moments like this.

Her muscles burned pleasantly, her body almost limp, but Yang lifted her as though she were a feather. Their usually cosy tent was sweltering, sheets pushed beneath them, but that was hardly her focus as she wrapped her thighs around the blonde’s waist, skin burning hotly against her own.

Yang’s lips found hers and she sunk into them, strong arms held her closely as her own hands wandered, tracing the marble ridges of her partners stomach, the soft curves of her breasts, then tangling in golden hair and holding; drawing out the moment just a little bit longer.

A hand pushed between them, tracing the faint lines of Blake’s stomach travelling downwards, then up, gently brushing over the slick skin of her inner thigh. She moaned in anticipation and just the tiniest bit of apprehension, once had left her sated, twice spent, but Yang was ever the overachiever and Blake’s own desire called for more. She wanted this, knew that Yang needed it, that when she felt like this, helpless, Yang needed to _give_.

Yang’s fingers pressed against her and her oversensitive nerves jolted, she muffled a scream on the skin of Yang’s neck, tasting fire. Her fingernails left indents in the muscles of Yang’s shoulders as the blonde’s fingers pushed in and up and _oh._

There was fear there, in the tightness of Yang’s grip on her, more than a little desperation too. Blake pressed her aura against Yang’s, trying to smooth the jagged edges of her wife’s soul; _I’m here, I’m here._ She cried out, Yang’s name falling from her lips again and again like an incantation, as waves of pleasure washed over her. Her hips moved in sync but weakly, her exhausted body struggling to keep pace with her want. And her hands simply held, reassuring and she hoped her wife could feel it, her need and her promise, _I’m yours, you’re mine, always._

Yang’s fingers moved inside her, her thumb tracing circles, motions so gentle belying the strength contained within her, of her need as she took every care not to hurt her partner. Blake’s raw nerves appreciated the delicacy of touch and soon she was falling, crashing and gripping so tightly to the only thing that remained real, her world fading for a moment to gold and lilac.

She was gasping for air; Yang’s body lay beneath her, the Maiden’s breathing just as ragged, and she sunk into that heat. Too exhausted to lift her head she placed a row of kisses along the line of her wife’s jaw, breathing in the scent of her hair.

There would be no more words tonight, precious little sleep either. She knew Yang wasn’t ready for the conversation they needed to have, and she’d give her time. There would be no more words, but Blake would still remind her, remind her that she was wanted, that she was needed and that she was so, _so_ loved.

She left a lingering kiss on her wife’s lips, then her chin, then her neck and drank in the sight of Yang’s breathless adoration as she slowly, methodically kissed lower.

 

* * *

 

They were a day out from Higanbana when Yang finally opened up.

“I was always afraid that my life was just a game to her, especially after I met her.” They sat, partially sheltered by the trees, on thick fallen branch. Blake held her wife’s left hand in both of her own, intertwining their fingers, while Yang prodded at their flickering campfire with a stick. “She told me, in her camp, that she’d been keeping an eye on me, watching me the whole time. And I mean… Aside from how creepy that is, what was she getting out of that?” She shook her head; a troubled expression on her face, a few shades from anger now but it was there, simmering under the surface. “Watching me fail over and over again, flailing around trying to find her and almost getting Ruby killed in the process. Everything I went through and she was just a spectator, watching but never helping, never offering anything! What does that make me except entertainment? Some twisted drama that she could kick back to after a long day of theft and murder.”

Blake thought, not for the first time, that she might hate Raven. She saw how much of her wife’s insecurity and self-doubt led back to the woman and could barely suppress the flash of rage inside her. She pushed it down, this wasn’t about her after all, and spoke softly. “Perhaps she missed you, perhaps she wanted to feel close to you but wasn’t willing or able to take the leap fully.”

Yang snorted, but her expression flickered, Blake knew how much she wanted to believe that but she’d never really allowed herself to. “I think you’re giving her too much credit, she didn’t care.”

She nodded once, then leaned into Yang’s side. “Maybe, I don’t know her as well as you, but she had to choose between the tribe that raised her and you. Either way she’d lose family. To me it seems less like she didn’t care and more like caring just wasn’t how she made her decision. She chose the safe option, the family she knew and knew her place in rather than taking the risk of starting over.” She knew that Yang would see right through what she was saying, braced herself for the inevitable pain of her own past and gripped Yang’s hand a little tighter.

“You sound like you sympathise with her.” The golden woman’s eyes shone with concern in the firelight, darkened as they were by heavy bags of fatigue, Blake smiled sadly.

“I chose Adam and the White Fang over my parents and Menagerie. I chose one family over another and I was wrong. But even after knowing that I had been wrong it still took me years before I could face my parents again, and even then, I only did it after I thought I’d lost everyone else. I was ashamed, I regretted my choice, but I was so scared they’d reject me that I stayed away.” It was perhaps the decision that haunted her the most, even now knowing nobody blamed her but herself. When she left Yang after Beacon she’d made a terrible decision for good reasons; but leaving her parents had been a bad decision made for bad reasons. As young and as thoroughly manipulated as she had been she still sometimes found herself hating that girl for her folly.

Yang cast her eyes back to the fire, her face obscured by golden curls, but said nothing. Blake continued. “I’m not telling you not to be angry with her, you have every right to be, but please don’t think you ever meant nothing. And even if she didn’t care at first, she clearly did by the end. Once she met you at Haven, once she saw you, really saw you, she was willing to die to save you.”

Yang glanced at her, wearing a smile which didn’t even come close to reaching her eyes. “If you say, ‘she was a complicated woman’ I’m kicking you out of the tent tonight.”

She shook her head gently, her cheek pressed against Yang’s heartbeat now. “No. I don’t think she was all that complicated. I think she just let her fear make her decisions for her, she loved and she cared about her family but she was never brave enough to take risks for those people, not until the end. Not until you.”

“You think I made her brave?” There was an edge of humour in her voice, blunt, chipped and wholly unconvincing as it was, but a sincere sort of plea beneath it all. Blake shifted her eyes up, trying to catch Yang’s, and spoke earnestly.

“Is it so hard to believe? You make me brave every day.”

Yang met her gaze for a second then quickly looked away, perhaps it was a trick of the firelight, but Blake was sure a light blush spread across those cheeks. “You’re plenty courageous all by yourself.” As much as she’d have liked to dwell in that moment for a while, she pulled them back on topic.

“My point is that I don’t think that this is a game to her, I don’t think you were ever a joke to her either, I can believe that she genuinely regretted choosing the tribe over you but was still too afraid to try to make things right for all those years.” Yang was sitting a little straighter now, her expression open and unguarded; the faunus weighed up her words, speaking carefully. “I’m not trying to make excuses for her, I definitely don’t agree with the things she’s done, but I know that these things have made you feel worthless in the past and I really don’t want that. I love you, you mean the world to me and for the few seconds I knew her you clearly meant something to her too.”

Yang’s expression fell, though not to sadness so much as frustrated thoughtfulness. “I just wish I understood her.”

“Why?” Perhaps not her most graceful question, and judging by the raised eyebrow Yang sent her way it could have been phrased a little clearer.

“What do you mean?”

She reached across, taking Yang’s other hand in hers. “I mean, this clearly means so much to you. I’m just wondering if it’s just because she’s your mom or if there’s something else.”

Yang’s brow furrowed deeply; Blake could almost see her digging deeper into herself, splitting herself open simply so the faunus could see her heart a little clearer, like she always had. “I guess it’s because… Like, growing up dad would say things sometimes, or just look at me like, as if he were seeing her instead of me. Like I was so similar to her. But I can’t be! I mean I can’t even conceptualize choosing to abandon Ruby like she did me, I never could, and so many of her decisions are just so foreign to me.” She took a deep breath, hand trembling as fear seemed through the cracks in her anger. “So, what am I missing? I’m afraid. Afraid that if he’s right then one day I will… That I’ll abandon and hurt people just like she did. I don’t want that. I don’t want to do that I don’t want to be that person; but I keep being told that I already am and just don’t know it yet. I feel like I’m just waiting for some switch to flip, then I’ll see myself in the mirror and not recognise a damn thing.”

_Oh._ She ran her hand over the cool metal of Yang’s arm and then up, lacing fingers through her hair and guiding those downcast eyes back to hers. “People aren’t that simple Yang, you have control over who you are, and I know you’d never hurt me.” She allowed herself a small smile, punctuating her speech with short kisses. “And if you do change, if something happens to push you off the rails and you start living in the forest and robbing travellers, I’ll be here to whip you back into shape.”

Yang smiled fondly, stilling her wife’s ministrations with a gentle palm on her cheek. “You really are my hero, you know that right?”

“I think you’ve mentioned it before.” She moved forwards, placing herself on Yang’s lap and embracing her tightly. “I love you Yang.”

“I love you too.” The words were whispered, warm breath washing over her ear as she smiled. She pulled back and rose, kicking some dirt over the last few embers of their fire, drawing Yang towards their tent.

“C’mon, let’s get some sleep.”

 

* * *

 

Yang’s rage was fire, it burned so hot and so bright it could be painful to even look at, but like fire it would consume, diminish and eventually burn itself out. It was but an ember by the time they arrived in Higanbana. And it was with mixed relief and sadness that Blake watched it be snuffed out.

It was raining, fittingly, and the heavy drops splashed against the cold marble before them, running down it’s face and over the engraved words that she could see carving themselves through Yang’s heart.

_Raven Branwen_

It was impossible to see them through the rain, but Blake knew from the subtle hitches in Yang’s breath that tears were falling down her cheeks too.

“We never recovered her body.” The words are like glass, shattering in slow motion. She chokes on a sob and Blake’s heart clenches in shared anguish. “Oh Gods, she died because of me.”

Blake moved in front of her at that, though watery lilac eyes stared through her all the same. “Not because of you Yang, _for_ you. This was never your fault.”

“If I hadn’t...” Blake took the girl's face in her hands and brought those eyes to her own.

“No.” One of her hands dropped to Yang’s arm, where the skin met the prosthetic. She gazed up at her wife fiercely, trying to pierce the despair that hung over the girl like a shroud. “If I can’t blame myself for this, then you can’t blame yourself for Raven. She made a choice, she chose you.” It was a low blow, Blake knew that, after the months Yang spent trying to convince her. But Blake knew all too well how easy it could be to drown in guilt; she wanted, needed, to pull Yang out of that.

She couldn’t tell if it had worked, Yang simply fell into her waiting arms; the fatigue and despair dragging her down battling with her wife’s sheer will to support her. Blake held her as the last of her restraint slipped away, as the heat of her anger turned to cold sadness and tears soaked through her clothes like raindrops.

“Why did we always have such shitty timing?” Blake barely heard the words, mumbled into her neck and covered by the rain. “Why couldn’t we have talked just once? Without the fate of our families, or the school, or just anything hanging over us. Why was I never allowed to just _know_ her?” The faunus tightened her embrace and eased yang down, kneeling on the sodden earth, but she was silent. She had no answers to give.

“There’s nothing at the end of this is there?” Yang spoke at length, her voice cracked and tired. “I’m never going to get these answers.” She radiated defeat in a way she hadn’t for years and the shivers that ran through Blake’s body weren’t borne from the freezing rain at all.

“We don’t know that.” She spoke softly into Yang’s ear, rubbing circles into the girl’s back. “We don’t have to keep going, we will stop here if that’s what you want. But I think we should keep going. We will find _something;_ and I know you. You won’t forgive yourself for giving up.” Yang continued to sob quietly, and Blake’s eyes flitted across the weeping heavens. But neither Yang or the sky offered any response. The remaining words on the gravestone taunted her but seemed meaningless in comparison to her wife’s tears.

_I turned my back to the sunrise, ever moving forwards I met the changing season._

_She held it in her hands as she found me, and I held her gaze as I cut its stem._

 

* * *

 

There was something so humbling about Yang’s weakness. Perhaps it was that no one else ever saw it.

To her friends she was a pillar, or maybe a mountain, so strong as to be invincible and always there to lean on. To her enemies she was destruction, a fully realised Spring Maiden who was practically an unstoppable force on the battlefield. But to Blake…

To Blake she was human. Invincible but fragile, horribly scarred but all the more beautiful for it, perfect and yet so very flawed. She was the other half of Blake’s soul and sometimes she thought she felt that golden woman’s pain more acutely than her own; she would bear it all if she could.

Yang was leaning heavily on her as they walked to the Inn. She was barely coherent as the faunus booked them a room and was all but unconscious as Blake carried her up the stairs. Her tears had run out, and Blake wondered truly how little she’d been sleeping to have crashed this hard.

Their luggage was thankfully brought up by the innkeeper and Blake placed Yang on a chair, propping the sleeping girl up. Shutting the door she slowly undressed her, quietly hanging up her clothes on a drying rack in the darkened room and running over her body gently with a towel, drying the rainwater that had soaked through them both. Carefully she removed the prosthetic and delicately cleaned the attachment point before lifting her once again and tucking her into bed.

Only then did she see to herself, noticing her hands shaking from the cold wet clothes that stuck to her skin and the freezing headache like an icicle in her skull.

She dried herself in silence and climbed into bed, Yang’s arm clung to her immediately and she pressed their bodies together, the last of the rain’s chill banished at the touch of Yang’s skin. She sank into that embrace, returning it completely, and willed her partner to sleep peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the bits of this chapter as individual pieces, hopefully they fit together okay too. 
> 
> Shifting back to Blake's perspective was nice as while Yang's mind is a little all over the place Blake is very much focused here on supporting Yang however she can. And this is as much about them as a couple as it is about Yang's relationship with her mother.
> 
> I really appreciate the feedback you guys have given so far and I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter, there's some new territory here for me and I'd really like to see how it came across.


	5. Sakuraso & Ajisai

She’d slept like a rock, but still struggled in waking. The soft glow on sunlight shone through her sealed eyelids and she strived to ignore it, her body like lead as it reminded her just how much rest she still had to catch up on, idly she wondered how Blake had ever allowed her to ride her motorbike in this state.

The faunus was there too of course, playing her infrequent part of 'the big spoon' with a gentle, if determined, enthusiasm. Slender, toned arms wrapped tightly around her and rhythmic breaths softly rustled her hair; Yang took a moment to absorb it all, dwelling on the here and now and the bliss of it all before opening herself to the chaotic darkness of the wider world. Blake was awake it seemed, the difference in the depth of her breathing was almost imperceptible, but only almost, and Yang had spent so many mornings listening to it, feeling that quiet melody of her partner’s heartbeat pressed against her own.

Fingers traced lines across the muscles of her stomach and Yang was suddenly aware of her own nudity, the evening before came back in torn, tear-soaked pieces; the rain, the grave the numbness that had settled over her and seeped into her bones. She didn’t remember exactly how she got back, a few rushed and blurred images ran through her mind, but she couldn’t make sense of them, just an impression of sadness and comfort and Blake, always Blake.

She remembered feeling so much last night, now she only felt hollow. The emotion was gone from her, enthusiasm sapped along with her strength. She hated it, that familiar emptiness, wanted it gone but felt powerless against it.

She felt Blake’s skin against her and a dull pang of frustration at there own numbness pushed through her; she wanted to feel, wanted to feel excited by the warmth of her wife pressed against her, wanted to feel angry at the way Raven had treated her and she wanted to feel sad that her mother had died without ever explaining _why._ Instead she was paralyzed, too exhausted to feel or too afraid of how much it would hurt she didn’t know, unable to get out of bed or even lift her head from the pillow even if she’d wanted to.

Blake’s grip on her waist shifted and she mumbled into Yang’s shoulder, “Did you sleep okay?”.

Yang hummed noncommittally, “We should get moving.”

There was no will behind the words, no drive, and speaking only served to drive home how Yang felt, her voice sounding as hollow as she felt. Blake shook her head in reply, though lying down and pressed into Yang’s hair the action was perhaps more akin to nuzzling, her nose brushed the skin of Yang’s neck and the early morning huskiness in her voice caressed Yang’s ears.

“No.” The word was accompanied by a tightening on her grip, as if she were afraid Yang might leap from the bed if she didn’t hold on, and for a moment before the faunus continued Yang wondered if this was just 'sleepy Blake' hesitant to get out of bed. “We need to take some time to rest Yang, I booked us in for two nights.”

Yang nodded tiredly, unwilling or perhaps unable to put up any resistance, accepting care easily, if not wholly willingly. Her eyelids dropped again, the exhaustion pumping sluggishly through her veins making itself known once more, and she sunk back into the sheets and her wife’s embrace.

She didn’t sleep this time, not really, just dozed for a while drifting on half formed thoughts and memories. And if a handful of tears fell from her eyes Blake didn’t say a word.

* * *

 

A while later Blake headed downstairs to fetch some breakfast, Yang had protested that she wasn’t hungry and Blake had returned with a single plate, admittedly a plate piled so high with food that it couldn’t have possibly all been meant for the petit brunette, but a single plate nonetheless. She sat on the bed, pressed against Yang’s side, and ate slowly. Yang knew she was being baited, but acknowledged the purity of intent and indulged her wife, snacking on a few pieces of bacon and some toast that Blake wouldn’t have gotten round to eating anyway.

There was a hint of guilt in her eyes at the tactic, behind that golden glimmer which usually captured Yang’s attention, but it was all but eclipsed by the relief in her smile, and the prospect of easing Blake’s worries kept Yang eating.

The tray ended up discarded on the side table, the food not finished but depleted enough to satisfy Blake, and they lay in bed as the sun reached its peak and started to defend. Blake read quietly while Yang ran ink-black locks through her fingers.

She knew Blake was waiting on her; the faunus had a habit of immersing herself in literature, diving in and staying under, oblivious to the world above, but now she was barely dipping in her toes. Yang could feel the attention draped over her instead like a blanket, warm and soft but despite the best of intentions a little stifling.

“Can we go outside for a bit?” Blake’s eyes were on her immediately, searching, then back to her book in a rather weak attempt at nonchalance.

“Sure, anywhere in particular?” Not a loaded question by any means, and answering felt like the click of an empty barrel, for all the impact it’d made neither of them knew anything about the town.

“Just somewhere open, somewhere quiet.” She was already moving to slide off the bed, Blake’s eyes scanning her again as if she might find the source of Yang’s pain written on her skin. “Not the graveyard.” She’d meant it to sound like a joke, but her voice cracked a little on the last word and the sudden memory brought her crashing to a halt. Blake nudged her forwards again, her book snapping shut with none its usual reluctance.

Yang threw on the first top she could find and accepted the jeans Blake passed her way. “Okay then. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

In the daylight the town lost its foreboding atmosphere and the contrast was stark. They’d arrived at sunset the previous day, though through the downpour the light of the setting sun was almost non-existent, and in the light of day the town was rather pleasant.

Regardless they ended up a little outside the town’s walls, they wandered through the trees in comfortable silence for a while, settling eventually by a small stream, one of the minor tributaries to the river the Higanbana was built around.

It was picturesque, in a classical sense, peaceful and faintly nostalgic, the sound of the stream tugged at the edge of Yang’s memories and a lump found its way to her throat unbidden.

“I loved playing outside as a kid.” She was startled by the sound of her own voice, but Blake’s eyes flicked to her with an almost lazy attentiveness, like she’d known exactly when her partner would speak, _perhaps she had._

“I always got the impression you still do.” There was a slight lilt to her voice, a teasing undertone meant to draw Yang a little further out of the shell she had hidden herself in, but Yang couldn’t bring herself to respond to it. She crouched next to the stream, picking up a fallen twig and tracing patterns onto the dirt.

“I guess I just feel like I lost my enthusiasm for it somewhere. We had a stream like this near our house on patch, apparently I used to run out there when Summer and dad weren’t looking and spend hours playing with the frogs.” She sighed, the images in her mind were not her own memories, she knew that, just the products of hearing the stories so many times, but they were happy and care free and everything the rest of her childhood hadn’t been.

“Ruby was more of an indoor kid. I was always so busy looking after her, or reading her bedtime stories, helping her with her homework or cooking her dinner on a stove I couldn’t even see over the top of...” She cut herself short, hearing more than feeling the frustration in her voice, as the twig snapped between her fingers. She rolled her weight back onto her heels, sitting on the ground heavily, old buried pain ached in her chest and the idea for unearthing it terrified her. “I miss who I was, before Summer died.”

Curiosity in her eyes, Blake walked over to a stone ridge jumping up to sit on it, legs dangling over the edge as Yang picked up another twig and started over. “You never talk about Summer.”

Yang looked up from her doodles, caught off guard by the statement. “What do you mean?”

Blake considered for a moment, her brow furrowing and ears turning in at the tips. “I guess, given how much thought you’ve given Raven over the years, it surprises me how you seem to avoid talking about the woman who actually raised you.” She seemed to catch herself there, eyes darting to Yang’s own, clarification on her tongue. “That’s not a criticism, I was just wondering.”

Yang’s heart clenched at the question, some pain was buried for good reason, some insecurities never faded with time. She looked up into golden eyes and tried to drink in the safety they offered, then spoke. “I guess I just want to leave those memories be you know. They’re the happiest moments of my childhood, really the only moments that it could be called a childhood since I basically took on the role of single mother when I hit four, and I just want to keep them that way. Keep her that way. I know my memories of her are rose tinted, b...” Blake’s eyebrows raised, the hint of a smirk playing at her lips and Yang mentally ran over her last sentence. “Okay that wasn’t even deliberate.” Blake shook her head fondly and Yang tried to pick up where she’d left off and, clutching at loose threads, summed it up briefly. “I just don’t want to look too closely.”

“You’re worried it wasn’t all as perfect as you remember?” Her wife’s tone was gentle, her expression sympathetic, but she was a little off the mark. Yang paused, taking a breath, trying to find the right words.

“I was a kid then, I didn’t know what was going on. Summer was in love with my dad, but she watched him pick her teammate over her, watched them have a baby together and then watched as Raven abandoned them all. She was kinda forced to look after me, a living reminder of how broken her team was. That can’t have been easy for her.” She sighed, largely resigned to her vulnerability but a piece to her still struggling against it. “I guess that I... I know that, as long as I don’t examine it, I can keep those memories happy. If I never look too closely then I’ll never have to know...” The words caught like a thorn in her throat, she forced them out as they tore her open once more. “If she loved me less than Ruby.”

Blake caught her, arms wrapping around her before she even realised that the woman had left her perch, and her tears fell silently as the morning’s numbness was shattered by heartache. Behind it all she wondered, wondered how long she’d been holding on to that, nursing an insecurity before she’d even heard the word, before she’d even understood what it was.

“I mean I couldn’t even blame her right?” She couldn’t be sure if Blake heard the words, choked by sadness as they were, less spoken and more mouthed into the leather of Blake’s jacket. But she could feel the faunus shaking her head as her grip tightened

“I don’t believe that.”

Yang choked on a sob turned bitter laugh, pulling back slightly but not meeting her wife’s eyes. “I appreciate the thought Blake, but you didn’t know her.”

Blake cupped her face with both hands, meeting her eyes fiercely. “No. But I know you. I know the woman she raised, and I know Ruby. I know you and I know the sheer capacity you both have for love.” Her voice softened, one hand caressing golden hair the other wiping stray tears from Yang’s cheeks. “I don’t believe that a woman capable of raising such wonderful people could possibly have loved you any less. You were her daughter too Yang. I believe… I’m sure that she thought of you as such.”

The statement hurt, like stretching a stiff muscle, burned for a moment before fading to warmth, she trusted Blake, completely, and maybe through that she could find comfort in her wife’s belief.

Blake held eye contact until Yang broke it, nodding and blinking the remaining tears from her eyes, then embraced her again. Yang kept her close, squeezing as she tried to loosen her grip, refusing to let go. “Yang.” She whispered in the girl’s ear. “This is lovely, but my leg is freezing.”

Yang let go at that, pulling back to see where Blake had been leaning over her with one leg submerged in the stream. Blake shushed her as she tried to apologise, directing her to lay out the blanket they’d brought as she shimmied out of the wet jeans and hung them to dry over a nearby tree branch.

They spent the afternoon like that, cuddled together under the cloudless sky, the sunlight trickling through the dense trees and painting pattern across their skin. Yang’s hands chasing the slow movement of the shadows across her wife’s body as the hours passed lazily, words of love and comfort whispered into her hair brushed over her like the breeze, and gradually the pain in her chest faded. Not to numbness, but something a little warmer.

 

* * *

 

“I’d say we have three options.” The following morning had seen them ready to move again, Yang hesitant to stay still too long for fear she’d never move again, the final step as they walked out the door of the inn was to actually pick a destination. “There’s Shione, one of the ruins Ruby passed through, Sakuraso, a much older ruin by the looks of it, and…”

“It’s that one, Sakuraso.” Yang interrupted without thinking, reflexively as if a hidden part of her knew something but wouldn’t tell the rest.

“You… um, you’re sure?” Blake’s eyes were questioning but held no doubt; Yang wondered, not for the first time, how she could possibly have earned that sort of trust.

“It’s just… I’m just sure of it, y’know? I’m not making any sense.” She finished weakly, feeling like a mess, but Blake only raised her, unreasonably-perfectly-sculpted-after-two-weeks-camping-in-the-wilderness, eyebrow in amusement.

“Not really, but we’ll head there and see what we find.” Yang nodded, smiling in appreciation as a strange twisted feeling settled in her stomach, and together they mounted up and took to the road.

 

* * *

 

Yang had seen enough ruins during the war, but this felt different.

Ruins before had been fresh, the scent of ash and death hanging over them reminding her of all those she failed to save. She’d seen the destruction and couldn’t help but think of Beacon, the flames and the rubble and her partner’s screams piercing the air.

It tortured her but a small piece of her was glad of it; those memories ensured that she never became desensitised to the destruction, never became as she’d seen so many other huntsmen and huntresses become, detached and impassive, more driven by hatred of the grimm than hope for the living. To her the fight always remained personal, visceral and painful. It kept her centred.

These ruins didn’t feel that way though. They were old, very old. The centuries had passed by and Remnant moved to reclaim them, instead of ash and death they smelled of flowers and damp earth. They weren’t occupied as the others were by fear, rage or desperation. Only sadness, quietly enduring after all else had faded. Whatever tragedies this place had witnessed had all happened hundreds of years past. All but one that is.

The twisting in her stomach had intensified, and a half-formed memory tore at the edge of her vision. An echo, too faint to make out and yet it was all she could hear. She’d dismounted without a word, tongue paralysed in her mouth, and stepped now cautiously through forgotten and overgrown streets, Blake’s near silent footsteps her only company.

“What do you feel.” A whisper was all that was needed in the earie silence of the long dead town, but Yang jumped at the noise all the same. Flinching from her trance before calming at the silent apology in her wife’s eyes.

That Blake didn’t sense anything confirmed her suspicions, the powers of the Spring Maiden had been thrust upon her without warning and her refusal to trust Ozpin had caused him to keep some of the details from her, she still struggled to sort them from her own emotions sometimes but felt a little clarity now. Opened herself to that magic now, felt it run through her veins and guide her heart.

_She fell hard on her knees, hands trembling, as pained rammed through her chest. Red eyes looked down at her through sheets of freezing rain and burned into her soul._

Yang gasped for air and felt Blake’s hand on her back. She took a moment to compose herself and then pointed. “This way.”

They were walking away from the centre of town now, towards the treeline. Blake laced their fingers together now, never asking the question, but Yang heard it all the same.

“Something happened here, something terrible.” In her gut she knew what it was, knew exactly why she’d been drawn here, but she wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet, to let go of the last scrap of hope that she was wrong. “It just feels like, I don’t know, it’s faint but unmistakable. Like running your fingers over a scar.”

She was drawn to one tree, unremarkable save for one detail, ivy wrapped around it all but concealing the trunk from view, and at its base was a mound. There were a few flowers on the mound and it seemed as if the tree’s roots threaded into it, the flowers were wilted but straightened as Yang approached, reacting to her presence. One last sign for her to admit why she was here.

“This is where she killed her.” Yang’s voice trembled as emotions not her own whirled around her, the despair of betrayal and a sick satisfaction whipped at her senses. “This is where the Spring Maiden died.”

Blake approached behind her and wrapped slender arms around her waist, pressing against her back. Yang focussed on her stillness, breathing deeply and allowing her wife to draw her into the eye of the storm that raged in her heart.

“I think I forget sometimes, what she was. I get so caught up in how much she hurt me I forget that she did so much worse.” The sun broke through the light cloud cover like mockery, shining light on the crimes of the woman she’d come here to mourn. “She stole and murdered and left others to die and here I am crying because she never came to my birthday parties.”

“That’s not all this is.” Blake’s voice was soft, lips close to brushing the ears they spoke for, deaf as those ears were to the words.

“She doesn’t deserve this. She was a fucking monster, I shouldn’t be here mourning her. It’s so fucking selfish.”

“Maybe she doesn’t deserve it, but you do.” Blake’s grip tightened around her and she felt the woman’s lips gently move against her neck through her hair. “This isn’t about her Yang, I’m not her for her. I’m here for you, because I believe you need to do this.” Yang turned in her wife’s arms, meeting golden eyes and was almost staggered by the conviction they held. “It’s not selfish to feel when you’ve been hurt.”

She couldn’t meet their intensity for long, empty confusion crept through her like a virus chilling her veins, and she looked away. “I’m just going in circles.” She didn’t know how to feel. She slumped and Blake drew her in, resting her chin on golden hair.

“That’s okay. You’re allowed to. We have time.” Yang nuzzled into Blake’s neck, lips on her collar-bone to assure herself that her partner was there. “Do you want to go somewhere else? We can always look for whatever clue Raven left later.”

Yang looked up confused, but a glance at the tree reminded her. She waved her hand and the vines covering the trunk parted, their stems gently shifting and climbing into the branches instead, revealing words that seemed freshly carved by sword edge, somehow preserved against time.

_I went south till I came to the seashore, finding one last flower so similar and clear._

_I made my nest on the world’s highest branch, and if my night ever ends you might find me here_

She turned back to Blake to find a look of fond wonder in the woman’s eyes. “Never mind then.” Looking around her. “Did you want to go then? There’s no rush.”

Yang turned back to the tree, studied the words, then released herself from her partner’s embrace. “Let’s go, this looks like the last riddle. I want this over with.”

 

* * *

 

Ruby had once suggested that Blake should buy her own motorbike, one that matched Bumblebee but painted purple instead. The idea had a fleeting appeal to it, but frankly the idea of spending time on a motorcycle without having Yang also there to hold on to was not one Blake was willing to indulge.

The southern coast of Anima was a long way from Mistral, and so featured very few towns. Fortunately that narrowed down their list of possible destinations to just one, Ajisai. Even luckier the town was just a few miles west of a major Mistralian naval base, which meant that they could travel most of the distance on a properly surfaced road for the first time since arriving on the continent, something which notably brightened Yang’s mood. Blake was more excited about the possibility of fresh seafood, though she’d decided not to mention it until they arrived.

There were still questions Blake wanted to ask, but she let them get some distance from Sakuraso first, tempering her concern with consideration. Yang’s mood had been suffering, fluctuating between resignation and despair, and while Blake felt like she was struggling to help, she definitely didn’t want to make things worse.

Of course holding in her questions had never been a skill she’d mastered, what with the turbulent relationship between curiosity and her.

They’d set up their tent a little way from the road, concealed by the treeline, and were settling in for the night. Blake had been the first to retreat to their shared sleeping bag whilst Yang washed up pots, she’d climbed in after her, extinguishing the fire with a wave of her hand and it slipped out. “Do the Maiden powers ever bother you?”

Yang gave her a confused look, her pupils dilated by the plunge into darkness gave her a slightly comical appearance, though Blake was too busy kicking herself to notice much. “Like, am I troubled by the fact that I can explode a grimm by glaring at it?”

She shook her head, mussing her hair against their pillow. “No, sorry I phrased that badly. Just… I know how they’re transferred, what that means about Raven, I guess I’m wondering if knowing that you were the last person she thought of makes all of this harder.”

Yang sighed, rolling onto her back and studying the roof of the tent. “It confuses me I guess, like really? That whole tribe she called family and I was the one she thought of in her final moments. And why? Because she cared? Because she was guilty? Or just because she’d seen me most recently? There’s so much I wish I knew and the closer we get the more scared I am that I’ll never get answers.”

“What do you want the answer to be?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed, closing her eyes and running her hand through her hair forcefully. “That’s a lie, of course I know. I think a part of me will always be that broken five-year-old, hoping she’d been wrong. Hoping that mommy really did love her. So damn pathetic.”

“It’s not.”

Yang met her eye’s briefly, then looked away, frustrated tension in every line of her body and Blake’s heart ached to banish it. “The rest of me just wants this to be over. Really any answer will do; even if the truth hurts me, I can handle pain, I just want to stop wondering.”

They lay in silence for a while, Blake running frantically over everything they’d said, trying to find some way to make it better, some way to help.

In the end Yang spoke first. “I do sometimes worry that I’ll go mad with the power though. Like, take over a kingdom or two, build an intimidating but ultimately impractical lair on top of a volcano somewhere.”

The humour in her voice is forced, but she’s trying and it feels like an opportunity, so Blake runs with it. “That’s not _not_ something I could see you doing.”

“Maybe someday, but I’m sure you’d whip me back in line.”

_To comfort or to double down on the humour?_ “Whipping huh? Now there’s an idea…”

“Pfft! Of course that’s where your mind goes. Well at least now I know what to get for your birthday.” The laugh was genuine, and Blake feels her face light up in embarrassed glee at her wife’s happiness.

“It’ll be a nice bit of variation from the bookstore vouchers Weiss will no doubt buy me again.”

“Hmm… Whips or book tokens, I’m actually not sure which would get you more ‘hot under the collar’.” And Yang’s looking at her, as much as any human could in the near complete darkness, playful smirk and eyebrows cocked and for a moment Blake forgets her worries, loses herself in the game they play together.

But she still plays to win.

“Depends, are you the one putting a collar on me?” She underlines the sentence with a hand slipping under Yang’s top, runs the back of trimmed fingernails up her partner’s breastbone then presses down.

Yang cracks at that, the kind of laughter which consumes, draws in the whole body and spreads to any nearby, Blake joining her until she’s pulled into a slow kiss. They take a moment then, to catch their breath, but Yang’s smile never dims and relief fills Blake like a flood. She’d worried, more and more, that this trip would hurt Yang, that it would add itself to her tapestry of scars, and maybe it would. But moments like this reassured her, they’d be okay.

“Damnit, you win this round ‘Miss Sexy Smoulder’, but the war’s just beginning!” Yang’s declaration of hostilities was undercut somewhat by the softness of her embrace and pair of kisses she left on the tip of Blake’s nose. Blake simply smiled back at her.

“I certainly hope so.”

The blonde’s face softened, she pressed her forehead against Blake’s, noses brushing and lips an inch apart. “Thank you Blake, I know I’ve said it before, but thank you.”

Blake let her eyes drift shut, focussed on the sensation, the closeness a soft warmth in her heart. “Of course Yang, this is where I want to be.”

Yang chuckled softly. “Oh yeah? You always dreamed of accompanying your sulky partner on a grief fuelled road trip like this?”

“Oh absolutely, I was a pretty gloomy kid, she’d have loved this.” That got another smile, and Blake could feel the tension slipping out of Yang’s body. She whispered earnestly. “She wouldn’t have believed how happy she’d be though.”

Yang’s eyes opened at that, for a moment they seemed to search the shadows that hid Blake’s face, for reassurance perhaps, appearing to find it, she relaxed. “Now you’re just flattering me.”

“It’s true though. Please, I want you to believe that. You make me feel so happy, so safe, so content, just being here with you.” Yang’s mouth worked silently for a moment, then Blake drew her into a kiss while she gathered the words.

“You make me happy too, even if I’ve been crap at showing it recently.” Yang’s whispers were scratchy, but honest, and Blake caught a stray tear with her thumb, wiping it away.

“It’s okay, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Yang’s fingers found her arm, running down it’s length and intertwining with her own. “Together?”

Blake pressed a kiss to her partner’s lips, listened to her heartbeat begin to slow as sleep called to them both. “Always.”

 

* * *

 

Ajisai was pleasant enough, the settlement had clearly been influenced by the nearby military installation, high concrete walls topped with automated sentry guns tracked their movements as they approached, but inside the town was friendly. Spacious and packed with restaurants and bars, clearly designed as a tourist destination and a stop off point for cruise ships; evidenced by the liner currently docked at the towns rather impressive (and apparently record holding) pier.

They’d arrived mid afternoon and Blake had immediately offered to find a place for them to eat while Yang spoke to the locals, gathering information. The place she found was quite frankly worth the three weeks of rations, tavern food and small game meat she’d endured to reach it. A responsible use of their rather meagre finances? Probably not. But Blake reasoned that they both deserved a treat.

They ate in content silence, enjoying the afternoon sun and the picturesque sea view, both resolving not to speak of business until after their plates were cleared.

“’The highest branch’? I suppose it was too much to hope for another giant tree.”

Yang smiled back. “A little, I’m thinking we check out that mountain.” She pointed and Blake followed the gesture down the coastline to peak rising far above the town and shrouded in mist. “There’s something magical up there, I can feel it from here, and the people I spoke to claim that it’s haunted.”

“Sounds like something Raven might do.”

“Even if she didn’t cause it, there’s no way she’d have missed it. It’s our best bet.” She paused a moment, looking apprehensive. “Do you mind if we go up there this evening? I just… I don’t want to hang around when we’re this close, y’know?”

There was something else behind Yang’s eyes, but now wasn’t the time, and Blake tried not to read too much into it. Her attention split with the waiter returning. “That’s fine, you think you can pinpoint whatever’s up there through that mist?”

Relief broke over Yang’s features and she exhaled heavily. “Yeah, I’ll be able to find it.” Then giggling to herself. “It’ll be a nice bit of role reversal, being the one who can see where she’s going for a change.”

Blake glared at her playfully then turned to pay the bill. “Well just try and remember how careful I am whenever I lead you through the dark. We’ve made it this far without injury, I don’t want to break my ankle now because you didn’t warn me about a stray tree root.”

Yang stifled her laughter and promised to be careful; then, hand in hand, they set off.

 

* * *

 

The sun set rapidly, and the slivers of faint light that made it through the trees and the mist dwindled to nothing. The air was still here, unnaturally so, and combined with the distinct feeling of wrongness that permeated the mountain Blake was beginning to see why the locals thought it haunted.

It didn’t slow Yang though, if anything it only spurred her onwards, weaving through the trees and up the steep incline as if guided, with more grace than anyone with human eyesight had any right to. Blake for her part held on tightly to her hand and desperately tried to keep up without tripping.

It wasn’t until Yang pulled her up and over a ledge that they stopped, Blake gasped for breath, acutely aware of how thin the air was here. Even making as much of the ascent as they could on the back of Bumblebee, they’d been climbing at an unforgiving pace for several hours, and Blake felt a pang of resentment at how composed Yang seemed to remain.

Though perhaps composed was the wrong word, distracted fit better, taking slow steps towards something Blake couldn’t see through the mist.

“Shame we can’t see the view.” Blake called out between deep, though slightly more controlled now, breaths; Yang’s attention snapping back to her as she gestured to where the sky would no doubt be if it were not so thoroughly obscured.

Yang looked up, confused for a moment, then with a quiet “Oh.” she raised her arms and let her eyes blaze with lilac fire. The fog evaporated in seconds, the air began to flow again in a gentle breeze, pleasantly cool against the sweat on Blakes skin. She fixed Yang with her most unimpressed scowl.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier?” Yang for her part had the decency to look guilty, walking back over and offering her hand.

“Sorry I was…”

“Distracted? It’s okay.” She gave a quick kiss as reassurance and tuned to face their destination; a cave it seemed, though blocked by a delicately engraved stone door. Images of vines and flowers and above them all, a single raven.

“Any idea how to open it, you know, aside from your usual method.”

Yang sent her a smile, but a strained one, eagerness, relief and apprehension all showing on her face. “I think so, it feels like the doors from the Vaults, or something similar I guess. One last security measure.” She walked up to the door and placed her hand on it, closing her eyes. The engravings started to glow, first red then shifting to a very familiar lilac, and with a crack and the sound of stone scraping stone the door eased open.

Yang stood at the opening, frozen, her hand trembling at her side. Blake rushed to her and took it in her own, wincing at how hard the grip was returned.

“We don’t have to go any further if you don’t want to, it’s okay.” Blake said, just hoping they were the right words.

Regardless they seemed to release Yang from whatever trance she was in. “No, let’s do this.”

They stepped forwards together, through a short corridor and into an open space within the mountain. Candles flickered to life seemingly by themselves as they approached, casting light over the vast collection of treasures collected here, but neither of them paid any mind. Blake’s eyes were focussed on Yang, trying to catch any hint as to what she needed, and Yang’s fixed on a single piece of paper, folded and placed carefully atop a chest in the centre of the chamber.

They approached, and as Yang reached down to take it Blake stepped back to give her some privacy. Yang froze, her hand inches from the letter and grip on Blake’s tighter than ever.

“Please.” Her voice thick with emotion, Blake heard the rest of the plea, even unspoken as it was, to do this, as everything, together. She stepped forwards, pressing into Yang’s side, and watched as she unfolded the letter.

_Hello Yang,_

_It could only be you after all. I’m going to give you the map; probably not directly mind you, I’m not sure I possess the courage to face you again so soon, but I’ll get it to you. And if you opened the door, I suppose my misdeeds have finally caught up to me. Everything in this room belongs to you. A poor recompense I suppose, after all I’ve put you through, but what else do I have?_

_It’s been three days since Haven, and I’ve spent them here. I haven’t returned to the tribe, how could I? And why should I? You were right after all. Vernal was the best of my tribe, my closest confidant, and I used her as a decoy. She died because of me. My tribe made me powerful and weak, and I can’t be those things anymore._

_Summer always used to tell me ‘Keep moving forwards’, somehow I doubt this is what she meant. But it’s all I can do._

_When I saw you for the first time you looked like the sunrise. You were six weeks early; did they ever tell you that? But bright and strong and so very loud. And while I never would have admitted it at the time you terrified me. I was of the night you see, I always felt too exposed in the light of day. So, I ran. Because I was afraid, that you and Tai and Summer and Qrow were a family who didn’t need me, and I couldn’t bear to wait around until they realised it. I chose the family weaker than me, the ones who would always need me, the ones who would follow me and never hold me back._

_I’m sorry I led you on such a winding chase, it was selfish, but I wanted to know that I meant something to you. It feels so childish now, putting you through all of that just to boost my own ego, but the thought of you not caring scares me more than I ever dared admit._

_One thing I held on to, perhaps my only remaining motherly instinct, is that I always wished that you would grow to be stronger than me. Better than me. I wasn’t ready though to see, at Haven, that you already were. I failed you. As much as I want to tell myself that my absence hardened and strengthened you I know that it’s a lie; that the strength within you was never from me, but from Tai. From Summer. I suppose I failed them too in the end._

_I thought I would feel lost, but the world is clearer than ever. If I was right and only the strong survive, then my tribe will live on without me. And if I was wrong and strength is not measured in power but in will, then I will do all I can to preserve yours. Either way I know where my path must go from here. I simply hope I can bear to walk it._

_I have wronged you so many times, you have no reason to believe me when I say that I love you. But I do. Whatever you might think of me please never doubt that I am proud of the woman you have become._

_I wish I deserved to call you my daughter, but you are, and always will be, so much more._

_Raven_

Blake watched the silent tears fall from Yang’s cheeks. Metallic fingers fumbled and drew a small printed photo from behind the handwritten letter. It showed Raven, skin flushed and dark bags under her eyes, sitting on a hospital bed in sterile, artificial light. A bundle in her arms, wrapped in white cloth with a tiny pink face poking out, topped with oh so familiar golden hair.

Blake looked back to Yang as sobs shook the blonde’s body, gently guiding her down as her knees collapsed, and embraced her tightly as she cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a while, and ended up twice as long as the other chapters... You can probably guess that this was going to be two chapters initially (you can probably guess where it was going to be split too), but one thing I've tried hard to do is have some degree of emotional progression in each chapter. And when I split it i found that the first half kind of didn't. So wrote the second half and now here we are.
> 
> I wanted to say thank you, I hadn't really thought about including Summer in this story at first, but Lord_Darth_Yoda mentioned her in a comment a couple of chapters ago and it got the idea stuck in my head, it turned out to be one of my favourite parts. So thank you and I hope it lives up to expectations.
> 
> Thank you again, to everyone who's commented and kudos'd. One more chapter to go, hope to see you then.


	6. Never More

She felt lighter. The cave was dark still, save the flickering candles which had burned in the chamber overnight. They’d camped out in Raven’s little hideout, neither wanting to make the descent to the town in the middle of the night, and still curious about what the cave held. They’d looked at nothing besides the letter, the photograph, there’d been no need. It was never about the ‘treasure’. It was about finding this, this feeling. Like a weight had been lifted from her.

Emotionally that is. In a literal sense there was a significant weight pressing down on her, though a welcome one, Blake draped half across her like a blanket. She was still sleeping softly, breath lightly brushing across Yang’s chest and ears flicking lazily at her chin, and Yang extricated herself carefully so as not to wake her. She stirred a little, the little smile on her lips morphing to a pout and sleepy hands gripped fumblingly at Yang’s rumpled clothes, but Yang gently pryed herself from her wife’s grip, leaving kisses on her knuckles like presents to wake up to, and brushed her hair back with her fingers.

The words of the letter played through her head over and over, somewhere between troubling and soothing. She had the answers, the idea was so alien to her she struggled to believe it, but she had no reason not to believe the letter itself. It was the sudden shift inside her that took her focus, she’d gone from not knowing how to feel to not knowing what she felt and the adjustment, while not an unwelcome sensation, left her contemplative.

She toyed with the paper in her hands, turning it over and running her fingers across it but leaving it folded, and tried to unpack what she felt. On one hand she understood her mother a little better now, she knew her reasons even if she couldn’t agree with them, and she knew why Raven had come back. She knew now that Raven had cared, that struck the deepest chord, and that her life had never been a game to the woman.

Still she puzzled over forgiveness. Raven had committed atrocities across the continent of Anima and she’d chosen to do so over spending any of that time with Yang. Some of that wasn’t hers to forgive, and the rest might still be too deep a wound. Was forgiveness possible? Was it even necessary? What she wanted, even before Raven died, wasn’t a loving and healthy relationship between them after all, she’d simply wanted answers. To live without doubts, not to forget the past, but to simply have the understanding and certainty to accept it. Could she do that now?

She shook herself from her reverie, yawning and stretching out muscles stiff from a night sleeping on a stone floor, and looked around at her mother’s final gift.

Her financial concerns seemed over, at least they would be assuming she could actually stomach keeping so much blood money, slowly and silently she paces around taking in the messily arrayed wealth. About half was simply jewellery, admittedly a great variety of jewellery, a complete range of quality and style with no real attempt seemingly made to organise any of it, most simply in piles or stuffed into already overfilled cases. More interesting were the various weapons; none Raven’s it seemed, instead a collection of trophies perhaps, a not-so-subtle boast as to how many huntsmen and huntresses she’d defeated in her time.

There were a number of other items mixed in, a black helmet with some sort of respirator built in, a box labelled ‘Magical Cloaks’ in messy handwriting and a book she stuffed into her bag as a later gift for Blake named ‘Riddles in the Dark’, after a moment’s thought she pocketed the simple golden ring that sat on top of it too.

Blake stirred behind her and Yang moved to her side. “Hey sleeping beauty.”

Blake’s ears twitched and swivelled, seeking out Yang’s voice, and her eyes cracked open as she rubbed the sleep from them. “That was supposed to be my line. Been up long?”

“Just a little while, thought I’d look around a bit.”

Blake nodded and accepted Yang’s hand to pull her to her feet, her eyes immediately catching on something over the blonde’s shoulder. “Is that the crown of Mistral!?”

Yang followed her gaze to a rather resplendent looking item sitting atop a pile of other trinkets, the crown was solid gold with patterns woven across its surface in platinum and embellished with some of the largest gems that Yang had ever seen, Blake picked it up with the sort of reverence she usually only reserved for Yang’s hairbrush.

“This hasn’t been seen in over a decade, not since it was taken off display at the Mistral Museum of History.” Yang raised an eyebrow and smiled at her amusedly and Blake blushed a little. “I watched a documentary once...?”

That caught Yang’s attention. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you watch a documentary before.”

The suspicion in her voice is all teasing, but Blake cracks under the pressure of it regardless. “Fine. Sienna tried to steal it for me made when it was first moved from the museum back when I was like… seven, I think. Anyway, she broke in to find it already missing.”

“You just asked her to and she did it?”

“Not exactly, she was babysitting me, and I bet her she couldn’t do it.” The smile on her lips positively wicked.

Yang let herself laugh at that, less at Sienna and more at the idea of seven-year-old Blake tricking seasoned White Fang veterans into stealing royal heirlooms for her. “You must have been so disappointed when she came back empty handed.”

“Hardly, the crown was gone but she snagged me the sceptre instead.” Yang shook her head in disbelief as Blake paused for thought. “I’m not sure what happened to that sceptre come to think of it, I should ask dad when I next see him.” She looked down at the crown with a little dismay in her eyes. “I guess we should probably give this back?”

Yang took the crown with her fingertips, gently tugging it from Blake’s grip. “Probably. Or…” Delicately she placed it on Blake’s head, letting the faunus’ ears fold in so they wouldn’t be pinched, then stepped back to take in the picture as Blake tried her best not to smile. “Your Majesty.” Yang gave a deep curtsey, though dressed in jeans and a leather jacket as she was the action lost a little of its elegance.

The radiance of Blake’s smile more than made up for it though; she shook her head gently, careful not to dislodge the crown, cheeks almost glowing pink. “I don’t think this makes me a queen Yang.”

“You’re my Queen.”

Blake’s blush deepened, through she lunged forwards and buried her face in Yang’s chest before the blonde could see just how far it reached, she mumbled something unintelligible into her wife’s skin, the crown poking Yang in the chin before she carefully removed it.

They relaxed into the hug, breathing synced, as slivers of pale light started to trickle through the entrance. “Hey.” Yang spoke into Blake’s hair, inhaling her scent and pressing on a kiss or two. “Come watch the sunrise with me?” Blake nodded, loosening her embrace and taking Yang’s hand in hers instead.

 

* * *

 

The view really was wonderful.

The sun was rising steadily, almost completely above the horizon now, and it spilled light over the scene below. The sea glittered and the town was just about visible behind the trees and rolling hills. There was a soft motion to the world, a gentle swaying and rustling in the breeze that was profoundly calming.

“How are you feeling? About… everything?” Blake’s voice was soft, curious in a caring sort of way, Yang smiled at her gratefully.

“Better, I think.” She mulled over how to phrase it all. “I have answers, as many as I’m ever going to get I suppose, but enough. I got what I came for, I think just _knowing_ … I feel, maybe happy is the wrong word but, content I guess.”

Blake’s eyes were whirlpools of molten gold; relief, admiration and compassion swirling with an intensity Yang could lose herself in. “I love you, and I’m so proud of you for doing this. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Blake laughed, shaking her head. “Yes you…”

“No. I couldn’t.” Yang poured sincerity into her voice; the faunus had a habit of downplaying her own role in things, Yang met her eyes with resolve, she didn’t want Blake to ever doubt how much she valued her. “Thank you Blake, I love you too.”

Blake didn’t hide her blush this time, it glowed almost as brightly as her smile. Shaking her head, she changed the subject. “Have you thought about what you want to do with that stuff?” She gestured back to the cave and Yang shrugged.

“I don’t want it. We’ll sell it I guess, put the money towards something worthwhile, there are plenty of people who need it.” She paused. “Unless you want to do something else, it’s half yours after all.”

Blake rolled her eyes then shook her head. “I am feeling pretty attached to that crown… But your idea’s nice too. It’ll be difficult to move all of that though.”

“Don’t suppose you have a few of those White Fang Bullheads lying around somewhere?”

“Afraid not, we lost pretty much all of our hardware over the last couple of years. Weiss should be able to help though, she’s definitely got the people for it. And I doubt the Schnee pilots are likely to ask questions.” Yang gave an admonishing glance, but Blake shrugged it off, Yang sighed and looked out across the landscape.

“Well, it can wait a while.”

“Got some plans you haven’t told me about?”

“A proposal actually.” Blake met her eyes, one eyebrow raised, smirk half-cocked with caution; Yang realised that she probably deserved that, the last time she’d said the word proposal they’d ended up marrying in the middle of a battlefield. She cleared her throat. “I asked around town yesterday; that ferry in the bay, it sets out at dawn tomorrow for Menagerie.” She stumbled on her words, that bashfulness found in the act of giving a gift, hoping she hadn’t misjudged. “If you want to, I… I know your parents would love to see you.”

“Yang…” Blake’s face spoke volumes, the radiance of her smile, the handful of happy-tears brimming in her perfect eyes, Yang returned her embrace with all she had. “Thank you. That sounds perfect.” Yang smiled, tension and uncertainty fleeing her body in a flood of warmth, exactly where she wanted to be.

Blake relaxed after a while, not letting go but shifting to her side, head resting of her shoulder, so that they could watch the rest of the sun’s ascent together.

She took the letter form her pocket, turning it over in her fingers, and pictured herself letting it fly off in the morning breeze. She didn’t need it anymore after all, she’d read the words a dozen times until they were engraved upon her heart, what purpose did it serve but to anchor her to the past? Blake snuggled into her side and Yang realised not for the first time that she was still caught somewhat, between the past and the future. Between the family that had failed her and the one that never would.

She centred herself; inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, felt the breeze ruffle her hair and watched in the corner of her eye as it danced in the sunlight. She thought of the past, of pain and loneliness and struggle. Happiness too, hard earned and stolen moments, and of the lessons she’d learned in the midst of it all. There was much to be gleaned from the pain of the past, but did that mean continuing to allow it to hurt her in the future? It was so much to sort through, but at some point, didn’t she need to start?

She thought of her future, of her hopes and dreams. Of her wife and what they might build, achieve, struggle through and experience together. All that she wanted lay ahead of her.

She took a moment to feel it all, the past fluttering in the wind but grasped tightly in her fingertips, her future pressed warmly into her side and holding on to her in turn. She exhaled and felt the cool morning air wash through as the world breathed with her. It felt like peace.

The wind tugged at the letter. She smiled, the pieces slotted into place and she knew with clarity how she felt and who she wanted to be. Dwelling in the present she leaned into her future.

And let go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, thank you again to everyone who's commented and kudosed this story, it really has helped motivate me and keep me focused on it. 
> 
> The artwork (assuming it showed up okay, this is the first time I've tried this) is by me! I've been getting back into drawing over the past few months and wanted to do something to go along with this story. And (in a shameless bit of self-plugging) there's more over on my tumblr (somewhatcharred.tumblr.com), it's still in its infancy (and I'm still kind of figuring out how it works) but feel free to come check out the stuff I have over there/ ask me questions/ etc.
> 
> And finally thank you to Rooster Teeth, CRWBY and Monty, for giving us these wonderful characters and letting me play around with them.

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a head-cannon of mine, not saying that Raven will die protecting Yang, but it would be a solid way to complete her character arc. So this fic is about grief, but grief for someone for whom Yang had pretty complicated feelings over in the first place.
> 
> It's also about Yang and Blake's relationship, how they work together and why they need each other. I really hope I can do them justice.


End file.
